


When You Get Home

by ineachplace



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Bottom Katsuki Yuuri, Long-Distance Friendship, M/M, Mutual Pining, Phone Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Slow Build, Yuuri is so in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-11 22:44:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15982073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineachplace/pseuds/ineachplace
Summary: Finding out they’re in love with each other when they’re in different countries is...complicated, to say the least.





	When You Get Home

**Author's Note:**

> My favorite beautiful boys!
> 
> I googled some basic Russian words and terms of endearment:
> 
> “Derr’mo” means shit.
> 
> Solnyshko I THINK means “my sun.”
> 
> Zolotse means “my gold.”
> 
> Malysh/malyshka means “baby.”

Victor’s mother wasn’t getting any better, and Yuuri felt absolutely hellbound for being more concerned about when Victor would be coming back to him than he was about her health.

 

Not that he wasn’t worried, because he WAS, but the urge to comfort Victor was so strong it felt poisonous at this distance.

 

“A few weeks, Yuuri, and I’ll be back in Hatsetsu to train you for next season. How has practice been?”

 

“It’s been okay. Four hours a day, just like you told me.”

 

Their phone calls were bland. They had to be, otherwise Victor would know how much Yuuri pined for him, how he couldn’t find a shred of his Eros without Victor watching him from the sidelines, touching him with his eyes.

 

It wasn’t a secret, really, how Yuuri loved Victor; needed him. At least he didn’t think it was a secret. But Victor, in all the months they’d known each other, had never once seemed to notice. Not even when Yuuri begged him not to take his eyes off of him, or pressed their foreheads together so hard they almost bruised.

 

He thought the hug at the airport would’ve been a dead giveaway. The first time Victor had to fly back to Russia, he was gone only a week. Once Yuuri saw him walk out, he ran through hoards of people, crashed through entire families and launched himself at Victor, who had dropped his bags in anticipation of catching him. He almost told him then, with Victor’s face pressed into his head. He almost said it.

 

But the hug ended, and Victor’s hands were returned to him, a soft phrase whispered in Russian before they made their way out of the airport.

 

It’s late when Victor calls, this time. So late that Yuuri is stirred from a light sleep.

 

“H-lo?”

 

“Yuuuuri,” Victor’s voice sounds far away; cheerful but forced. Yuuri straightens up in bed.

 

“Is everything okay? How is your mom?” Yuuri is worried that something has gone horribly wrong and that’s why he’s calling so late.

 

“She had her biopsy today. We get the results in about a week. I’ll know then when I am coming back to y—back.”

 

Back to you—god it almost sounded like he was going to say it. More than likely, it was just a mistake.

 

“Well I’ll be thinking about you both,” Yuuri breathes out, running a hand over his face. His voice is low and scratchy. He almost doesn’t sound like himself.

 

“Thank you, solnyshko. If it’s good news, I’ll be flying home next Friday.” Yuuri has to bite down on a weird, giddy noise. It dies in his throat, but not before a small squeak comes out.

 

“Don’t rush to get back. You’re where you’re supposed to be right now, and I can only imagine how happy she is to have you.” He leans over and turns his bedside lamp on, kicking the covers off of him and tucking the phone between his cheek and his shoulder because he feels a Charlie horse coming in his left calf.

 

“Yuuri? Are you alright?” Victor asks after Yuuri hisses. The Charlie horse decides to stop creeping and comes on full swing, and he can’t breathe, just massages it lightly and grunts through it.

 

He hears Victor clear his throat, and the rustling noise of sheets. “Yuuri...”

 

He waits until the worst of it subsides, then breathes out on a gasp.

 

“Derr’mo.” Yuuri isn’t sure what it means, but Victor’s voice sounds lower.

 

“Sorry, I got a Charlie horse. You know how I get. Had to breathe through it.”

 

Victor exhales, long and shaky.

 

“I told you to stretch before and after practice, Yuuri.”

 

His voice still sounds a little strained, but it’s a bit more familiar than before.

 

“It’s hard to remember. I’m so tired after I finish that I run to the showers almost immediately after.”

 

“That’s okay too. Heat is good for overworked muscles.”

 

Yuuri is still massaging at his calf, which is now throbbing post-Charlie horse.

 

“Should go to a masseuse,” he mumbles, feeling that one spot in his neck get tight from how he’s angling his neck to hold the phone.

 

“Yuuri, are you taking care of yourself? Do I need to call your mother?”

 

Yuuri snorts. “She has the house, especially the kitchen, practically quarantined. She’s almost as strict as you are about the skater’s diet.”

 

Victor let’s out a low chuckle, and Yuuri has to squeeze his eyes shut. He misses that laugh. Sometimes, if Victor’s close to Yuuri’s face, which is always because he has no boundaries, the breath of it will tickle his nose.

 

“I miss you,” he blurts out, clamping a hand over his mouth directly after. He immediately feels sweat bead on his forehead and he seriously, seriously considers throwing his phone.

 

“...I miss you too, malysh.” His voice is quiet, but he doesn’t sound upset.

 

“Bring back a Russian dictionary with you, please,” Yuuri recovers quickly, feeling two seconds away from almost passing out.

 

“Why? Afraid I’m secretly calling you bad names?” Victor teases.

 

“Yeah, something like that.”

 

And there’s that laugh again—a little breathless this time.

 

“I must leave you, Yuuri. I’ll try to call tomorrow. When I do, I want to hear all about your ideas for your next routine. Yes?”

 

And of course. As if Yuuri could deny Victor anything.

 

“Yes, Victor.”

 

He receives a hum in reply. It’s the perfect goodbye.

 

When Yuuri hangs up, he decidedly ignores how badly he wants to touch himself. This isn’t a new development. Victor’s taken to calling Yuuri a lot these past few weeks, and it’s basically a Pavlovian response to hearing his voice at this point.

 

He takes a few deep breaths and then falls into a restless sleep.

 

The rest of the week goes by in a blur. It’s days full of practice, whole wheat pasta, brown rice, and no Katsudon. He’s taken to keeping a calendar of how many days he’s gone without it. Luckily, he gets a cheat day every four weeks, and one is coming up. He already plans on eating Katsudon until he dies a greasy, delicious, pork-filled death.

 

It’s Friday, the day Victor said he’d hopefully be coming home, but the results of the biopsy are delayed, so in Russia he stays.

 

Yuuri’s body really hurts. He and Victor had discussed a new routine, and Victor demanded they Skype so he could see Yuuri perform. He’s excited until Victor starts barking orders at him. It’s apparent that he’s in an awful mood, but he usually doesn’t take things out on Yuuri—especially not on the ice.

 

“Focus, Yuuri! You’ve landed that a million times. It should be perfect by now.”

 

Yuuri grits his teeth, turning his back to silently scream before doing the move again, being sure to hold onto the tip of his skate while he spins. Just as he’s stepping out of the spin, his left leg cramps up like it did that night they were on the phone. He falls forward, dizzy, dragging the seized up leg behind him.

 

“Yuuri, again.” His voice is dark and a bit angry, actually. It makes Yuuri’s stomach hot.

 

“Victor, hold on—I, my leg has been cramping up so much recently. I need a second.”

 

He hears Victor let out an angry growl.

“I’ve told you one million times to stretch before you get on the ice. Yuuri, do you listen to me at all?”

 

Yuuri just stares at him. Victor’s never really spoken to him like this before.

 

“Why should I even come back to Hasetsu if you’re not willing to do even the most basic things I tell you? Hm?”

 

That gets to him. He drags himself up off of the ice, his cramped leg suddenly easy to ignore now that he’s furious. He walks closer to the phone so that Victor can really see his face. It’s blurry through his white hot anger.

 

“I’m here, aren’t I? If you’re really that disappointed in my performance then maybe you shouldn’t come back, Victor. Since I’m apparently not good enough to be coached by you just because I get a cramp from how hard you work me even when you’re not here.”

 

His chest feels hot, feels like it’s vibrating. Victor’s face goes white and his mouth hangs open. Guess he wasn’t expecting Yuuri to fight back. Before he can even process what he’s doing, Yuuri ends the Skype call and tosses his phone into his bag.

 

He’s had enough of that for one day.

 

He showers with ruthless efficiency, and makes sure he turns the heat up until it’s practically scalding. It feels amazing on his sore body, and he winds up just standing under the stream for a few extra minutes.

 

God, the nerve of Victor. As if Yuuri hasn’t been doing everything that’s been asked of him, aside from stretching. And for what? To be yelled at all the way from Russia? No way.

 

Yuuri steps out of the shower and runs a towel through his hair. He’s distracted when he walks past his mirror because he realizes that he hasn’t looked at himself in a while. The months of training and dieting are really obvious to him in this moment. He liked his round face, but the chiseled look he had now was kind of new and exciting for him. He runs a finger along his defined jawbone, then down to his collarbone. He has that V that all the athletes have. He’d been so jealous of that V, never understanding how in the world to get it.

 

To be honest, the weight loss had just been an inevitability. Victor never mentioned it as a goal, only said that Yuuri had to get his skating stamina back. Not that Yuuri was heavy before, just soft. A little give to his middle that he’d started to get used to.

 

He’s kind of...proud? Looking in the mirror, he thinks he could almost look hot.

 

His phone rings on the edge of the bed. He sees Victor’s stupid face in the caller ID in the reflection of the mirror.

 

He lets it ring and runs the towel through his hair again, then wipes it across his chest.

 

His phone rings a second time. It only strikes him now that, despite how upset he is with Victor, this could be news about his mother.

 

With a groan, he answers.

 

“Is everything okay?”

 

There’s a pause on the other end, like maybe Victor was expecting it to go to voicemail again.

 

“Oh, Yuuri, uh—yes. Well, no. I don’t know. I still haven’t heard anything.”

 

He sounds so small.

 

“Okay.”

 

There’s more silence. He can hear shuffling on the other end, like maybe Victor’s pacing.

 

“I have never spoken to you like that before.”

 

“No.”

 

Victor sighs. Yuuri pictures him sitting down at the edge of his bed.

 

“I am so sorry, zolotse. It was not you I was frustrated with.”

 

Yuuri mirrors what he thinks Victor is doing and sits on the edge of his bed, towel resting on his lap.

 

“Then tell me what’s wrong, Victor. Is it your mom?”

 

“No—yes, always—but not the main—“ he makes a frustrated noise. “It is...hard to be away for so long.”

 

That makes Yuuri’s heart jump, stutter, kick out of his chest.

 

“It’s...hard having you be away.” He goes bright red. He worries the towel in between his hand, squeezing and releasing it like it’s a stress ball.

 

“Yuuri,” he hears him sigh again. “Tell me you forgive me.”

 

“I do everything you tell me to do, Victor,” he almost whispers it. It’s not supposed to feel like such a confession, but it does.

 

“I—“

 

“Everything. I push and I push. I make room for you. I take every piece of criticism and I fix it. Every observation you make, I log it away in my brain. I haven’t eaten Katsudon since the last time you were here and you KNOW how much I love it. I do whatever you ask of me, Victor—I always will.” The last part has him breathing heavy, like he’s about to have a panic attack.

 

“Malyshka, I am sorry, please. I know this. You—you are so good—such a—“

 

Victor seems to stop himself short, making some choked off noise before going silent.

 

“Such a what, Victor? What?” Yuuri has the strangest feeling that he’s dreaming. There’s a hazy quality to the phone call; maybe because he’s naked except for this towel and Victor has no idea. Maybe it’s because Victor’s voice is impossibly low and quiet.

 

“Such a good boy for me,” is what Victor says, and it makes Yuuri clutch at his chest because he thinks he might actually be having a heart attack. He moans by accident, but he can’t be bothered to stifle it. He didn’t think a phrase like that could do something to him, but hearing it come from Victor has him achingly hard in two seconds flat.

 

“Yuuri,” he moans back. “Yuuri,” again, desperate.

 

Yuuri presses a palm over his dick, pressure making him almost bite clean through his lip.

 

“Victor what’s—I need—“ he presses down harder and his eyes roll into the back of his head. Victor curses and says a long slew of things in Russian. It’s so hot that Yuuri doesn’t know what to do.

 

“Will you be a good boy for me now, Yuuri, baby?”

 

“Yes, oh my god, Victor.” He doesn’t know how they got here. Five minutes ago he was furious, now he’s laying down on his back, hand still pressing against his dick because Victor’s voice makes him crazy in a way he’s never experienced before.

 

“Tell me what you think about when you touch yourself,” Victor grits out. His accent is so incredibly thick that Yuuri almost cant understand him. It makes him feel feverish; reckless and honest.

 

“You, Victor, just you. God, I think about your hands, kissing your mouth.”

 

“Will you let me, Yuuri? Will you let me touch you? Put my hands all over you while I kiss you?”

 

Yuuri wants to cry, he really does. He feels absolutely wrecked just by Victor’s words, and he hasn’t even started to stroke himself yet.

 

“Yes, yes. Victor, want your tongue in my throat, want to put your fingers in my mouth. God, I want them in my mouth.”

 

He’s writhing on the bed, one hand finally, finally reaching down to touch himself in earnest.

 

Victor’s making the most amazing noises. He’s grunting, almost growling, with these loud, sharp noises in between.

 

“God, baby, I want to fuck you while you suck on my fingers. Would you let me fuck you? Open you up with my cock, malyshka?”

 

Yuuri stops jerking himself off and reaches down further, shifts one leg to the side so that he can start playing with his asshole. He hasn’t done this in so long.

 

“Yes, yes, please Victor. I need it, need you inside of me.” He gasps as he says it, because he’s managed to stuff one finger inside himself, all the way up to the furthest knuckle.

 

“What are you doing to yourself, Yuuri,” Victor whines. He wonders if Victor can hear the obscene sound he makes after he pops a wet finger out of his mouth and presses it back inside him.

 

“Playing...with my ass, god Victor, I wish it was you, need it to be you.”

 

“Fuck, yes, so good for me. Open yourself up so I can fuck you. I bet you’re so tight and hot, hm?”

 

Victor’s practically slipped back into Russian. If Yuuri weren’t so used to his voice, he wouldn’t be able to understand.

 

“I am, so warm. I need you, Victor, please please please,” he begs, slipping two more fingers into his ass and aiming right for his prostate. He almost screams when he hits it, a glorious, earth shattering pressure settling in his abdomen. “Want you to come in me when you fuck me—“

 

He hears Victor hiss out a slew of words in Russian. “Baby, I’m gonna—“ and then Victor shouts, long and loud. It makes Yuuri pick up speed, determined to come now that Victor has. He keeps ramming right into his prostate, a litany of filth falling from his mouth until finally, blissfully, the pressure crests and he comes all over his stomach, completely untouched.

 

They’re silent for a good minute, Yuuri content just to hear the way Victor’s practically whimpering as he comes down.

 

“That was...”

 

“Amazing,” Yuuri finishes, and he almost doesn’t recognize his own voice. He sounds completely blissed out.

 

“How long have you wanted to do that, malyshka?” Victor’s voice is airy, still breathless.

 

“Since before you came to Hasetsu. Since I first saw you on the ice.” He says it because why lie? Why pretend he hasn’t wanted Victor to fuck him within an inch of his life since he laid eyes on him.

 

Victor curses, moans a little. “I’ve wanted to fuck you since I saw you skate my routine. Every day since then.”

 

“Victor...” Yuuri needs him to stop because he’s dangerously close to getting hard again. “You made me come without even touching myself,” he whimpers.

 

“God, you’re so amazing, Yuuri. I cannot wait to spread you out when I get home and do everything to you.”

 

“Hurry back. Please.”

 

They stay on the phone, just listening to each other breathe. At some point, Yuuri falls asleep.

 

He wakes up feeling like a new person. He’s light, giddy, completely unable to stop smiling for even a moment. There’s a text from Victor waiting for him.

 

“Yuuri, my darling, my solnyshko, I am coming home in three days. Mother’s tumor is benign.”

 

It’s the best news he’s ever gotten in his life, he thinks. Better than first place in any competition he’s ever competed in.

 

Victor was coming home to him, his mother was going to be alright, and he didn’t have to pretend he wasn’t completely infatuated with him. It was bliss. It made him feel almost delirious.

 

He ate his egg white omelette happily, not even scowling at the stringy spinach making green water on the edge of the plate.

 

Practice went by the same way. Yuko was there and she watched him for a bit with the kids.

 

“Something’s different about you, Yuuri,” she smiles after he lands a triple salchow.

 

“I’m just happy,” he breathes, twirling a few extra times on the ice just because he can, because Victor.

 

“You’re free. You’re moving like you know you can do it. It’s so nice.”

 

And it really is nice. His body still aches, but he’s loose, brave, confident for the first time in a really long time. And it’s because Victor wants him.

 

He almost trips on his way back to his room that night, so eager to call Victor that it’s making him clumsy. He throws his bag down on the floor and runs to the bathroom, pushing fingers through his hair and washing the sweat off of his face. He looks a little pink from exertion, but it’s not like Victor will notice over the phone.

 

He changes into a t shirt and boxers, not even bothering to put on pants because what’s the point?

 

Victor calls the second Yuuri lays down.

 

“Yuuri,” Victor says so fondly that he has to close his eyes against the swell of emotions threatening to come out of him.

 

“Missed you today.”

 

“Mm, did you,” he hears the snick of a zipper coming down, and that sound is enough to get Yuuri hard.

 

“Miss you all the time, especially now,” he whispers, again pressing a hand over his dick just to give it some pressure.

 

“I’m coming home tomorrow, my darling. My uncle is coming to watch over mama after surgery.”

 

“I don’t know what I’ll do when I see you.”

 

“You’ll take me back home and have your way with me, hopefully,” he purrs. And yeah, that’s exactly the plan.

 

“Victor...” he’s not sure how to start this. He’s so turned on it’s actually on the edge of painful.

 

“Yes, tell me what you need, solnyshko. Tell me.” It’s almost a growl.

 

“I really, really need you inside me. God, can’t think of anything else lately. Wanna feel you for days after. I just...need you, Victor, please,” he starts stroking himself after that, hard and slow, to the rhythm of Victor’s heavy breathing.

 

“Yuuri, Yuuri, I...I want to see you. Please, can I see you?”

 

He’s not sure what Victor means at first, then he remembers the little blue Skype app that he downloaded when Phichit went away on vacation.

 

“Y—yeah, hold on.”

 

He hangs up, loads the app, and calls Victor again. The screen is black for a few seconds until finally, blissfully, Victor’s face appears.

 

It does things to Yuuri. Those blue eyes make him feel like he’s dying, and the silver hair that always seems to be too long, the way it hangs in his face. It’s almost too much, seeing him now that he knows he can touch.

 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whines, banging his head lightly on the headboard behind him.

 

“God, look at you,” Victor breathes, resting the phone somewhere and sitting back in what looks like a computer chair. “You’re all red. Sweaty from practice, hm, malyshka?”

 

Yuuri makes a lilting noise in his throat and just nods.

 

“Play with your ass for me, baby. Be a good boy. I want to see.”

 

That punches a guttural moan out of Yuuri, and he’s moving immediately. He rests his phone on his bedstand and turns so that Victor’s getting the perfect view of his face and ass. Without hesitation, he circles his asshole, dipping in just to his first knuckle before pulling out. Victor breathes out hard, and Yuuri can hear the frantic rhythm of his hand.

 

“That’s it, that’s it,” he’s gasping, and it eggs Yuuri on, makes him take his whole finger before he’s ready. It burns a bit, but he’s so worked up seeing how wrecked Victor looks that he does it again, then again, then sneaks a second finger alongside the first.

 

“You have no idea what you look like, do you?” Victor is moaning. “So hot for me.”

 

“Wish it was you...”

 

He feels well and truly stretched now, with three fingers pistoning in and out of him. He squeezes his eyes shut, but misses Victor’s face, his open mouth and pink tongue, so he opens them again. Pushes through the haze to really watch Victor.

 

“Tell me what you’re gonna do to me, Victor. I...I wanna hear it from you.”

 

Victor reclines even further in his chair, pink tongue darting out to lick his lips. He hears an uptick in the pace of Victor’s hand on his dick, and he has to screw his eyes shut for a second.

 

“I’m going to push you up against the door the second we’re alone. I’m going to taste your mouth, your teeth, your tongue. I’m going to play with your ass and shove my fingers between your lips. And then I’m—unhhhh—going to fuck you right there. We won’t even make it..to the bed, Yuuri. I can’t wait any longer. I’ll have to take you right there, baby, fu—“

 

He’s pretty sure they come almost at the same time, if anything only a few seconds apart. Victor takes longer to come down than Yuuri does, and he’s glad for it. He watches Victor shudder and shake, the sudden violent twitch of his hips as he tries to come back to himself. His eyes are heavy, only a small sliver of blue peeking out from his bangs.

 

“You’ve gotten thinner, my Yuuri. You’ve been practicing a lot.” Victor says after he finally calms down. Yuuri self consciously touches his stomach, feeling the light sheen of sweat that’s covered him. “Don’t get me wrong, solnyshko. You were beautiful before and you are beautiful now. I only comment on it because I have not gotten to see you in such a long time. I feel as if I’ve forgotten.”

 

“Tomorrow you’ll get to see.”

 

“I can’t believe I get to have this. Have you,” Victor says, voice far away anddreamy. His lips are red and raw and Yuuri really doesn’t know if he can wait a whole day to see him again.

 

“I can’t believe it either. I spent so long thinking I was no one to you. This is...surreal.”

 

Victor looks shocked by the confession, and he leans closer to the phone camera so that Yuuri can see he his eyes. “I will show you what you are to me. What you have always been to me, so that you never doubt it again, solnyshko.”

 

It’s hard for Yuuri to fall asleep that night. He and Victor had stayed up a bit and talked, not about anything in particular. It was nice, feeling no hesitation or distance between them. New.

 

He looks at the clock and it’s 4 AM. Victor will be back in 8 hours, and Yuuri isn’t sure how he’ll pass the time, since sleep doesn’t seem to be coming to him.

 

It takes only a moment for him to decide what to do. He grabs his bag and heads out the door, hand fumbling with the rink key.

 

The ice is as welcoming as it’s always been for Yuuri. It’s the perfect place to be right now. He laces up his skates and puts on the costume Victor picked out for him for his competition back in March.

 

He thinks about what he’s going to do. He could practice an old routine, or...

Or he could do one of Victor’s. He knows all of them by heart. He thinks of one in particular that made him so emotional when he first saw it that he thought he was going to have a panic attack. Yeah, that’s the one he’s going to do.

 

At the last minute, he thinks of something, and sets his phone up on the floor by the edge of the rink. With no music, just what’s in his head, he poses, arms high, neck bared, chin pointed to the sky, and he begins.

 

It’s not a particularly challenging routine for him. The magic of it lies in Victor’s body, the way he moves, the language of his anguish when he performs it. Yuuri tries to emulate even a quarter of that passion, twisting his body into the same beautiful shapes he’d watched Victor make a thousand times.

 

In his head, there are violins. Cellos swelling to the first jump, which Yuuri lands perfectly. His arms wrap around himself, then. He drags a hand over his throat, pulls at his hair as he turns into the spin.

 

He loves Victor. He wants him to see that. He wants this to tell him without him having to say it. That’s the goal, anyway. To show Victor he loves him.

 

It’s as good a motivation as any.

 

After twisting and turning on the ice, landing another salchow perfectly, the music in his head ends. He’s sweating, breathing heavily, holding his final pose before skating over to his phone and ending the video, making sure to smirk into the camera at the last second. He sends it almost immediately, thinking Victor will get it when he lands. “For you,” he texts along with the video.

 

It’s almost 7 AM when he heads out of the rink, and he squints into the sunlight.

 

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he’s surprised to see that it’s from Victor.

 

“I can’t believe the gift you’ve just given me.”

 

Another text comes in right after.

 

“You are so perfect, baby, so beautiful. I can’t stop watching you.”

 

Apparently Victor has WiFi on the plane.

 

“All my best performances have been for you. This one especially.”

 

“God, don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

 

“Everythinf. Now sleep on the plane, Victor. I’ll be waiting when you land. Xx”

 

“Will dream of you, malyshka.”

 

He heads for the airport.

 

It’s agony waiting for Victor. His knee hasn’t stopped shaking since he arrived and his left eye is starting to twitch from lack of sleep. He’s not really sure it’s a good idea for him to even be here. There’s so much tension between them that he’s afraid something catastrophic will happen when they see each other, like a sinkhole will form and just swallow them whole before they get to even touch each other.

 

He’s broken out of his stupor when he hears the announcement over the speaker that Victor’s plane has landed.

 

He gets up and walks towards the proper terminal, pushing through several people until he has a good view of the exit doors.

 

People start making their way out gradually, and Yuuri, for some reason, counts. 21, 22, 23 people, and none of them Victor. He starts pulling at his nails with impatience, worrying the left side of his bottom lip the way he always does when he wants something too much.

 

And it’s then that he sees him. His silver hair is first to catch Yuuri’s attention, then his black fall jacket, then his eyes, which are frantic and searching until they finally find him.

 

Wordlessly, they run to each other. It’s just like the first time, except Yuuri isn’t biting his tongue and it doesn’t hurt to be close or him. Or it does, but in a different way. They crash together, Victor squeezing Yuuri’s torso just shy of painful, but god he loves it, needs the contact. He buries his hands in Victor’s soft hair, his head in Victor’s neck, and he’s practically lifted off the floor.

 

“Yuuri, my darling.”

 

“Victor,” he almost cries. Victor smells like airplane soap and something underneath that is so distinctly him. He impulsively presses a wet, sloppy kiss to Victor’s neck after a while, and they really need to get out of here, because he feels Victor push himself into him, a groan punched out and vibrating behind his ear.

 

“Take me Home,” Yuuri whispers, letting go of Victor to grab his hand and one of his bags. Victor looks dazed, mouth slightly open, a film over his eyes. He simply follows Yuuri, unfocused and pliant as they weave their way out of the airport.

 

“I’m parked just over here,” he murmurs, squeezing Victor’s hand just to make sure he’s still with him. He parked a bit away, in one of the less popular lots. He’s all the way on the top floor, in an area with only a handful of other cars. Once he’s close enough, he pops the trunk, looking back at Victor and motioning for him to throw his things in. He almost looks like he’s in pain, so Yuuri places his things in the trunk for him, turning to walk towards the driver’s side.

 

He’s pressed up against the car before he even makes it to the door handle. Victor is touching him absolutely everywhere, breathing so fast and hard, and yeah, Yuuri’s ready for this, whatever it is.

 

“I can’t—I can’t wait, god Yuuri, look at you,” he whines into Yuuri’s neck, and Yuuri has to turn around and put his chest right up against him.

 

That’s when he kisses him, just dives in and slams his mouth against Victor’s who moans so beautifully that Yuuri just opens his mouth, let’s Victor pour inside and taste him.

 

It’s his first kiss, he realizes about five seconds in. He wonders if anyone in the history of human existence has ever had a better one. Victor bites down on his bottom lip and tugs slightly, making Yuuri go limp. Nope. This one takes the cake. It’s the best first kiss. It should go in the history books. It’s perfect.

 

Yuuri honest to god climbs him, clamping his hands in Victor’s hair, scraping at his scalp and earning a broken moan from Victor. He wraps his legs around Victor’s hips, and Victor reaches down to grab his ass and hold him up.

 

The kiss turns filthy after that. They’re both so overwhelmed that they’re just tonguing into each other’s open mouths, tasting, feasting on each other like they’re making up for centuries of lost time.

 

“Your mouth,” Victor breathes, leaning back and grinding into Yuuri. “Drives me fucking crazy.”

 

Yuuri takes one hand out of Victor’s hair and pulls his hand up, taking Victor’s middle and ring finger into his mouth and laving his tongue over them.

 

Victor slips into Russian then, reaching down to palm Yuuri’s cock while he watches with rapt focus as his fingers disappear in and out of Yuuri’s mouth.

 

“Need it, Victor,” Yuuri gasps after he pulls his fingers out with a wet pop. He isn’t even sure what “it” is, just that Victor needs to put something somewhere and shut Yuuri up.

 

“God, baby, you want me to take you right here? In the parking lot?”

 

It sounds so filthy. Yuuri nods his head emphatically, unlocking his legs from around Victor so that he can get down on his knees and press his face into Victor’s dick, hot and hard in his pants.

 

Victor grabs Yuuri’s hair and pulls, and it’s the hottest thing in the entire world, bar none. Wordlessly, he undoes his zipper, pulls his pants and underwear down until he’s face to face with Victor’s cock. It’s hard and red at the tip, and Yuuri can’t take it. His mouth starts watering and he wraps his lips around the tip, eyes rolling into the back of his head at the sound Victor makes; like a loud sob.

 

He takes him about halfway, hand coming up to cover the rest of Victor’s impressive length, and he’s moaning like a pornstar, the feeling of his knees on the concrete making him feel so wild he starts palming himself through his pants.

 

“Yuuri, Yuuri, baby, your mouth,” Victor’s yanking at his hair, pushing his head so that he has to take more of Victor’s dick, and he loves it, loves how Victor takes control.

 

He pops off for a minute to catch his breath, but Victor seems to have other plans. He pulls Yuuri to his feet and turns him around, pressing his front against the car and ripping his pants down until they pool around his ankles. Yuuri starts talking but he isn’t even sure what he’s saying. It doesn’t matter though, because Victor shoves two fingers into his mouth, pressing them in deep until they touch his tonsils. It makes him gag, his eyes watering, more spit spilling out of his mouth.

 

“Get them wet for me, Yuuri.”

 

His voice is sinister; dripping with sex. He sounds barbaric and Yuuri thinks if he wasn’t actively trying not to come yet, he’d spill all over his car.

 

Victor pulls his fingers away after a few moments, kissing at the sharp nob at the top of Yuuri’s neck as he slowly, ruthlessly presses two fingers inside of him. Normally it would be too much, but he’s been playing with himself nonstop since their first time over the phone.

 

“Already ready for me, fuck, malyshka. Don’t even need my fingers, do you?”

 

Yuuri nods his head, or shakes it, he isn’t sure. He’s pretty positive he’s hyperventilating. Victor’s fingers in his ass feel amazing, but they’re not enough. Victor seems to sense this too, and pulls his fingers out, turning Yuuri around again so that they’re facing each other.

 

“Are you sure about this, lapochka? Here?”

 

“Waited...long enough,” Yuuri whispers, punctuating each word with a roll of his hips. God, Victor looks good right now.

 

“Hold onto me.”

 

That’s all the warning he gets. He feels the blunt head of Victor’s dick push into him, and he honestly screams, hears it echo off of the concrete walls before Victor presses a hand against his mouth, hissing as he slams into him.

 

Yuuri’s legs are locked around Victor’s waist again, one hand pulling at his hair, the other around his shoulders. He licks and bites Victor’s hand until he growls, inching it downward until it wraps lightly around his throat.

 

Yuuri comes so fast he doesn’t even know it’s happening at first. The light pressure on his throat, Victor’s other hand holding him up by his ass, his dick pounding into him. Yuuri’s vision goes white, and he starts speaking in Japanese, saying ridiculous things like “die inside me,” “marry me,” “have my children.”

 

“Yuuri, fuck, I can’t—I love—I love you—“ and the rest is in Russian. He’s clenching around Victor, and he feels him start coming. He slams into Yuuri one final time, so hard it knocks Yuuri’s teeth together, and then he spills inside him, going stone still.

 

Yuuri scratches lightly at his scalp, milking Victor’s cock as it twitches inside him. He feels wet warmth on his neck where Victor is pressing his face, and realizes with a start that he’s crying.

 

“Victor? Did I...did I do something wrong?” He starts panicking when Victor starts to sob a little louder, slowly sliding out of him and placing Yuuri’s feet back on the floor. He’s still holding him up though, because Yuuri definitely can’t walk right now.

 

“No, no, baby, I’m just...” he takes a huge breath of air and pulls back just enough to look Yuuri in the face. “I love you. I just love you so much.”

 

Victor’s shaking. He reaches up and presses his left hand against Victor’s cheek, sighing when Victor leans into it, turning his face to kiss at his palm.

 

“You know I love you. I’ve always loved you. I’ve been yours from the beginning.”

 

“Yes,” Victor sighs again, kissing Yuuri once, twice, a third time. “Mine.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Say it again, lapochka. Please?”

 

They press their foreheads together, a bit of the urgency wearing off and fading into something slow and languid. Yuuri still feels feverish, but more in control now that his desire has been momentarily sated.

 

“I’m yours,” he kisses him, “I’m yours. I belong,” kisses him again, “to you.”

 

He shivers a little because it’s the truth.

 

“And I to you,” Victor breathes, a brilliant smiling brushing across his face.

 

And it’s perfect. It’s perfect.


End file.
